


And No Net Ensnares Me

by reine_des_corbeaux



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, Body Horror, Captivity, Dehumanization, Eyes Do Not Belong There, M/M, Mutilation, Oral Sex, Wing-Clipping, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:15:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25252966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reine_des_corbeaux/pseuds/reine_des_corbeaux
Summary: Even as king of a nightmarish hellscape, Jonah Magnus still enjoys taking care of his pets.
Relationships: Jonah Magnus/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Jonah Magnus/Jonathan "Jon" Sims/Martin Blackwood, Martin Blackwood/Jonah Magnus, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 12
Kudos: 77





	And No Net Ensnares Me

Sitting on his unspeakable throne, Jonah Magnus can see everything and he feasts his eyes on the world’s fear, drinking in every drop of terror and destruction. But sometimes, even with the world laid out like a banquet before him, he still prefers the view directly in front of him. That, perhaps, is the sweetest part of his victory: the Archive and his human companion chained at his feet. This is where they belong, and they are beautiful. Sometimes, because he is merciful, Jonah even allows them to touch each other, especially after he’s tended to their wings. 

The wings were a gift from the Flesh, and they had hurt when they ripped out into existence, but now they are lovely: Martin’s tawny as an owl’s, the Archive’s a corvine black. But they require maintenance, and it’s getting time to touch them up. Jonah enjoys this process immensely, especially now that he can combine it with other forms of pleasure. Which is what he does now, as he clips long flight feathers short while Martin sucks his cock. 

It shouldn’t be physically possible, but the wings are flexible, bending backwards without apparent damage as Jonah’s silver scissors cut a few feathers shorter than strictly necessary. It’s as though the wings were designed particularly for his own needs, Jonah thinks, and snips off another flight feather too deep. Martin gasps in pain with his mouth full. Jonah smiles, and reaches down to gently push him off his cock. He finishes trimming the wing as he finishes on Martin’s face. 

Jonah looks past Martin’s hunched shoulders, still holding the wing outstretched and bent. From his place on the stairs, the Archive watches, all his eyes open and trained on the throne. There’s a hungry look in them, a curiosity and a delight that wars with a more human anger. Try as he might, though he might wish his human were elsewhere, the Archive is the creature he is meant to be, wings and all. He needs the fear and fury that radiates from Martin as his scattered feathers fall about him and Jonah renders his wings useless for escape. Jonah will give it to him, even as everything human left in the Archive revolts at the thought. 

“Good boy,” Jonah says, returning his attention to Martin and running a hand along the blunt edges of the cut feathers. Martin flinches, tears welling in his eyes. “Return to your place, and I might even let you preen the Archive after I’m done with him.” 

Martin looks like he wants to say something fierce and cutting, and Jonah likes that about him. His fire keeps his fear delicious whenever his wings are trimmed. Even so, Jonah knows he’ll break someday. The only question is when, and whether or not he’ll have to break the Archive a little first. He’d prefer not to, really, but Jonah can’t help thinking he’ll enjoy it when he pinions both their wings. It’ll be all too satisfying to render them flightless forever, completely reliant on Jonah as the Archive watches eternity at his feet. 

“Jon,” Jonah calls, because sometimes he likes to remind the Archive of what he was. He tugs a little at the Archive’s chain. “Come here.” 

He looks so beautiful crawling, eyes still searching hungrily as he kneels before the throne. But every eye snaps shut as Jonah beckons at the Archive, as if he is willing himself to recover the humanity he long since left behind him. Jonah reaches down to cup his chin and press one of his long fingers (and how he loves and delights in this body still) against the seam of the eye that rests there. It resists, but then pops open, and Jonah drags a finger across the surface of the eye, just to feel the thing he’s made and the living embodiment of the world he’s created. The Archive looks up at him, furious, but still extends his wing across Jonah’s lap. 

“Don’t look at me so petulantly,” he tells the Archive as he inspects the wing. “It doesn’t suit you.” 

The Archive spits. Jonah stops long enough to slap him, as gently as possible. Several more eyes open in his face at the impact, and Jonah runs his finger along the rim of one, wiping away a trace of moisture that might be a tear. 

“There. Much better. Now, look elsewhere. See your world, Archive, and feed on it.” The words are laced with compulsion as the Archive’s many eyes go blank and distant. 

Jonah returns to the wing. The Archive’s feathers are soft beneath his fingers, and it’s almost a shame to take the scissors to that first long flight feather. But Jonah does anyway, because while he can see anything and everything, he likes his Archive within reach and at his feet. He spent so long running as a human that it wouldn’t do to have him go flying away as soon as he’s given the chance. So Jonah strokes the feathers, the dark expanse of the wing the only part of the Archives body where no eyes blink, and he lets the silver scissors bite through one feather at a time, slowly and gently. Unlike Martin, the Archive won’t flinch at all until Jonah’s done. 

“I think I’ll fuck you later,” Jonah says as the Archive comes back from his observations and the all-knowing beauty of the Beholding. He’s almost done with the second wing, and he snips the final feather far too short as the Archive looks up at him, drunk on knowledge, fully fed and barely comprehending, let alone feeling the pain. “Now, go on.” 

He sends the Archive down the steps to Martin, wings useless and open eyes glowing with a febrile light, and watches as the Archive collapses into Martin’s waiting arms. They cling to each other for a moment, stroking clipped feathers as Martin softly whispers the Archive’s human name over and over, as if he can make things right by repetition and take them far away from this world where they lie chained, winged, and naked at the feet of Beholding. It’s a futile wish, but Jonah likes to indulge it. He’ll let the flight feathers grow, just to feel the fear as he takes the possibility of escape away from Martin and the Archive all over again. Jonah sighs contentedly as he watches his creation and his pet run clumsy fingers through each other’s wings, straightening broken feathers, Martin crying softly. They’ll never leave their proper places so long as the Eye rules the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Part of me thinks Jon should've gotten a peacock's fan instead of crow wings. But with actual eyes on it. Anyhow, this was written for the prompt "100 Words of Wingfic with Wing Clipping". As you can see, it grew somewhat longer than originally intended. 
> 
> Ironic _Jane Eyre_ title is ironic. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


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